KrisParr

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The “JockBrad” from Columbus several years ago, grew up in Indy. I was friends (it turns out) with his lacrosse coach. Anyhow, I’m fairly certain he retired (and was terrific in the sack). The dude from Cleveland/Columbus does look nice.

I have used iPads for a long time as my primary spank bank machine - very portable, light weight, easy cleanup, reasonably priced, durable, For business and other uses, i rely on a Surface Pro 7 - keeping the two completely separated leaves no worries of something accidentally popping up.

Yes, he has stated as such in a couple of articles. $25-30K a week is nothing to sneeze at. I’m sure Mom is well taken care of.

Holy shit ... you want me to lick your fingers? Yes, please! https://gayforfans.com/video/my-christmas-present-for-the-guy-at-the-gym-reno-gold-christmas-special/

How many twists and turns can this thread take? Interesting.

And his mom is his manager? Whoa ...

and every episode gets hotter and hotter - woof

Yes, yes he does. In my dreams, a couple of nights a week, in between my winning the lottery and dining with the Queen. Indeed, a nice fantasy, eh?

Bridgerton is an American period drama streaming television series created by Chris Van Dusen and produced by Shonda Rhimes. It is based on Julia Quinn's bestselling novels set in the competitive world of Regency London high societyduring the season, when debutantes are presented at court. The series premiered on December 25, 2020, on Netflix. And one gay scene, very brief. But ... there is plenty of male eye-candy, especially Regé-Jean Page as Simon Basset, the Duke of Hastings omg - this man is extraordinary - great acting chops, a body to die for and plenty of naked butt scenes - a great bare knuckle boxing match, and some wicked sex with his young bride; yes, even if you’re not into that, his romping in and out of bed are fun to watch.

There are more of Reno on this site. A spectacular one of him receiving a facial. https://gayforfans.com/

Haha, thanks. I’d sure like to try - never had any complaints so far.

If ever I wanted to take the place of a machine ... oh, my https://gayforfans.com/video/playing-with-my-new-fucking-machine-reno-gold-christmas-special/

My lips want to meet your nipples ... and mouth ... and other places

The “encounter” time period for adult activities should have a definite appointed beginning and end. The time spent at dinner, movies, advice, therapy, etc. that occurs before and/or after the encounter should be considered as neutral no-charge by both parties. At least this is what my brother, an attorney, told me. And he also said that his opinion, because of the holiday, would be free this time.

Depends a lot on the situation. I’ve had guys open their door a crack and when I enter, they’re around the corner in the buff. Can be startling and breathtaking. Others have been in shorts and a T. If they come to my place, I often ask them to wear something of my choosing, like preppy, or leather jacket (if they have one). One guy I met at a hotel showed up in a button down dress shirt, tie, and khakis. And as I quickly discovered, he was going commando - nice surprise. It can be a fun discussion in advance if you play it right.

Ditto, get in line.

Yes, yes, YES ... oh hell, YES! Any chance there are more photos of him? Wow .... just wow ...

I think fetishes can be similar to food. I never liked certain vegetables until I tried them prepared differently from previous times. And I think your “tastes” come and go. I have always had a thing for athletic gear, but over the years, it’s faded a bit. And my once take-it-or-leave-it leather “hobby” has morphed into a full-blown passion. Same thing with men. Beefy football player-wrestlers still turn my crank, but with age, my preferences have lessened and now I “go” for just about any type.

About two years ago, I finished a run on a popular trail a good half hour from where I lived. The parking lot was gravel and as I was walking toward my car, something a few feet away caught my eye. Turned out to be not one, but two, diamond rings. One was like a cocktail ring with diamonds all around and the other was a huge solitaire with baguettes on the side. I knew enough about jewelry to know these were real. There were no cars very close and it was getting late in the day. I took them and started checking the lost and found in the local newspaper, social media - but in a college town, not much else to do. It’s a city trail with no office or anything like that. However, there was an activity board and map at the trailhead, so the next chance, I started checking it to see if anyone posted a “lost” note. Nothing. So I set up a new generic email account, and posted a note at the trailhead. “Jewelry found in parking lot on XYZ date. Contact me via email with exact description.” I checked the email often, and surprisingly got some weird inquiries, but none of them were even close. After a month, I took the rings to an appraiser and was bowled over - they were in the 15-20K range. My attorney said I should wait a few more months and to document everything to be legal and ethical. In my head, I spent the money several times, like Vegas, and escorts, Acapulco, you get the idea. And then it happened. I received an email from a woman who lived near the trail, and she described the rings as if she were looking right at them - even drew a map of the parking lot where she parked. She had been pushing her kid in a stroller, and her fingers were swollen, and for some reason, she took them off and put them in her jacket pocket where they obviously fell out. And for some unknown reason, she never checked the trailhead sign until now. I was more than convinced she was the owner. We met at Starbucks for the handover. She said the cocktail ring was a family heirloom and the solitaire was her engagement ring - she even brought wedding pictures to prove it. She couldn’t stop crying. My reward? A really sweet hug and a free latte. I still went to Vegas not much after that. Escort? Yeah. Acapulco? Some day.

It’s a great film. A little slow in spots, but the last 10 minutes or so are riveting. There should be awards galore.

After a half-dozen or so encounters with one of my favorite escorts, over a post-romp beer, I did ask. His answer was simple enough: “For the money, plus I just love to fuck.” Duh.

Oh, hell no. Give my mom a couple of glasses of wine and she’ll sing and dance your ass off. Dad was a coach/teacher and Mom was a school administrator and lead cheerleading and drama. My two older brothers were major letterman jocks. I grew up in an amazing family. When I came out, it was like “I” was the last to know. No tears, no drama, just hugs and high 5’s. My mom did say that the guys I date had to be cute. And I’ve worked very hard to comply. It’s been a non-issue for so long, I am truly blessed.

My parents recently celebrated their 52nd wedding anniversary so I called them to chat. After talking with Mom, Dad and I somehow got on the subject of sex. Both parents are in their early 70s, and are in great shape - they run, swim, bike. Dad was a coach his whole career and both put me to shame with their disgustingly healthy habits. He and I had perhaps a little too much liquor as the conversation took an interesting dive. He asked me how my sex life was which evoked gales of laughter. So I retorted with the same question. He said, “your mother and I still screw like newlyweds a couple times a week.” Ok, Pop, too much information. But I’ve always known them to fuck like rabbits, so it was no surprise. And then he added, “thank God for modern medicine.” Yeah, no shit. So my brain took a left turn and I asked him how many times he and Mom did the nasty in 52 years. He said at least six thousand or more. OMG. That’s a lot of screwing. His final shot was, “hey, smart-ass, go figure how much sperm that was and let me know. Take care!” and hung up. Challenge accepted. Assuming Dad manufactured at least one teaspoon per boink, through simple math, six thousand teaspoons equals close to eight gallons (768 teaspoons per gallon) over the years. So I sent him a text: “Holy shit, Dad, that’s 8 gallons. Give Mom a break!” His response? “One less teaspoon, son, and you wouldn’t be here. Fuck off. Love, Dad”

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